


Mr. Goodness

by hanktalkin



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Grand Theft Auto Setting, Angst, Concussions, Disfigurement, Established Relationship, Fake AH Crew, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-07
Updated: 2016-07-07
Packaged: 2018-07-22 04:04:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7419070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hanktalkin/pseuds/hanktalkin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>ok you know <a href="http://hanktalkin.tumblr.com/post/141940277874/proof-of-why-jeremy-dooley-is-goodness">this</a> post?</p><p>well I made it Jerevin and I also made it sad</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mr. Goodness

“J.”

Jeremy didn’t look up, engrossed in a couple of schematics Geoff had saddled him with after the heist.

“Jeremy,” Gavin tried again.

They lay on the bed without the covers, Jeremy reading and Gavin trying to sleep. The air-conditioning was off, not necessary with the cool nighttime breeze blowing from the window. Without it, Geoff’s penthouse was silent, the rest of the crew too exhausted for their usual post-heist party. No one felt like celebrating anyway.

Today had been a success, but it hadn’t been worth it.

“Jeremy,” Gavin said, taking more drastic measures and putting his entire hand on the mechanic’s face.

Jeremy finally peeled himself away from the schematics, peering through Gavin’s fingers too look at his boyfriend. “Yeah Gav?”

“Jeremy, I just realized something,” he reported, which was Gavin Speak for _pay attention to me_.

“What’s that, Gav?”

Pulling his hand away, Gavin smiled, delighted in being able to share his new notion.

“Your name means ‘goodness’.”

Jeremy blinked at him. Gavin was waiting expectantly for him to say something along the lines of _what do you mean by that Gavin?,_ letting him give voice to whatever dumb idea had just popped into his head. Instead, Jeremy responded, “Actually, ‘Jeremy’ is a derivation of Jeremiah, which means ‘appointed by God’, or ‘Yahweh has established’.”

Gavin opened his mouth, annoyed at being thrown off his game.

“‘Gavin’ is a derivation of Gawain, a name popularized by the fairy tale ‘Sir Gawain and the Green Knight’, in which Sir Gawain emulates all the traits of an ideal knight.”

“Jeremy,” Gavin pouted.

“It is also means ‘white hawk,’ something that I think suits you-”

“Alright!” Gavin interrupted. “I get it! Jesus J, I didn’t realize I was talking to the Encyclopedia Americano over here.”

It hadn’t taken Jeremy long to peg the security specialist, not after a stakeout where he had nothing to do but listen to his crewmember’s insane hypotheticals for twenty hours. After a few months of actually dating, he was able to read Gavin like an open book. Of course, that didn’t mean he couldn’t play along.

“So Gavin, why does my name mean ‘goodness’?”

Gavin brightened, finally getting some consideration. “Well, your name is ‘Jeremy Dooley’, right?”

“Yes Gavin, that is my name.”

“So I was thinking,” Gavin rushed on, “in Australian, instead of saying ‘my goodness!’, you say ‘holy dooley!’. So, Jeremy Dooley actually means ‘Jeremy Goodness’.”

“Australian isn’t a language, Gav.”

Gavin shrugged. “I know. I just think it’s something that suits you.”

Jeremy smiled, soft and light, and Gavin grinned back; a moment that was ruined as Gavin reached up to scratch the side of his face.

“Don’t pick at them!” Jeremy snapped immediately.

Gavin guilty dropped his hand from the white bandages wrapping the entire right half of his head. “They’re itchy,” he muttered.

Jeremy sighed. “I know, but you can’t mess with them, you’ll tear them open again.” Seeing Gavin touch the bandages ruined Jeremy’s mood considerably. It also reminded him why they were the only two up at this hour.

“You should be trying to get some shut eye anyway,” he told Gavin.

“Not supposed to sleep when you have a concussion,” Gavin murmured for the sixth time, lying down on his good side.

“That’s just a myth Gav,” Jeremy told him again. “Caleb says as long as I wake you up every two hours you’ll be fine.” Trying to convince Gavin to go to sleep had been a nightmare, but eventually he had relented. Even on his most bratty days, he wasn’t this bad, something that concerned Jeremy quite a bit.

Gavin didn’t reply, but he wasn’t asleep either. Jeremy picked up his work again. The biggest one was a modification to Geoff’s Adder, some ideas to improve the torque. Another was a plan for bulletproof wheels on their latest getaway car, but that was standard stuff, he had done it hundreds of times before. The last was an ingenious plan to get a flamethrower on the front of Michael’s motorcycle. This one was drawn on a bar napkin. Jeremy rubbed the bridge of his nose.

Although his official position in the crew was “mechanic,” he found that role he played was much more fluid. As often as he fixed cars and switched plates, he also had to keep eyes on everyone, a job he shared with Jack. Where Jack observed from the chopper, he tracked his crew through a scope; between the two of them, they could see everything. It was like that with everyone on the crew, no one kept to their neat little boxes. Jack was second in command, but she was also their getaway driver and pilot. Today, Michael had used twelve pounds of dynamite to blow the vault door, but any other time he was a red threat muttered by Geoff’s enemies: _pay you debts to Ramsey. Don’t fuck with Ramsey. If you do, Jones will come for you._

Even Gavin was a security specialist as much for their crew as he was a specialist for everyone else. He could hack. He could counterhack. He vetted everyone who ever so much as _looked_ at Geoff. And occasionally, very occasionally, he was allowed to handle the explosives.

This morning had been one of those times. The six of them agreed Michael would need help blowing both the inner and outer doors, and Gavin volunteered.

The outer door blew early.

“What the hell was that?” Geoff demanded mere seconds after the sound of crumbling marble faded.

Gavin’s voice crackled through Jeremy’s earpiece. “Oh Jesus.”

The other five members of the Fake AH Crew tensed at the same time. They knew that voice. The last time someone had used that voice, Ryan had told them the exchange was a setup. Something had gone very wrong.

“Give me your status, Free,” Geoff told him over the line. “What happened?”

“Oh, oh Jesus,” Gavin rambled. “Guys, I messed up. I messed up big.”

Jeremy’s blood went cold. He was zoomed in on Geoff, watching his back in case the LSPD showed up early. He could see the expression on their leader’s face, stone cold, trying to hide the fear that was most certainly hitting him just as it was hitting Jeremy.

“ _What’s your status_?” Geoff repeated. “Where are you? Are you alright?”

“I think I’m alright, I got my hands I-oh. I feel…woozy.” Gavin wasn’t responding to Geoff, talking like they were sitting in a room together instead of over comms. “I think I hit my head.”

Through the scope, Jeremy saw momentary panic flash across Geoff’s face. It only took a moment to snap into action, barking orders and looking up to where he knew Jeremy was perched.

“Dooley, do you know where he is?”

“I know where he last was,” Jeremy responded with a determination he didn’t feel.

Geoff nodded. “Jones, you set up?”

“Yeah, but-”

“Blow it. Any LSPD inbound will redirect to your location. Haywood, as soon as it blows, go in, cover him, get as much shit as you can but don’t be greedy. Patillo, you’re on your own. I want you to start driving _now_ ; as soon as Dooley gives you his location go in extract the both of them.”  
“What about you?” Jack asked. Without her, the other three didn’t have an escape route.

“I’ll find something,” Geoff replied, which was Geoff Speak for _I’ll figure it out_. “Dooley, I want you-”

“On it,” Jeremy interrupted. As soon as Geoff had asked about Gavin’s location, he had taken off across the roofs, leaping in between buildings to the north side of the bank. He had never been a good runner, but being with the FAHC had given him a lot of practice. Leaping onto a fire escape, he kicked loose the boot and let the ladder send him crashing to the street. He landed on the ground with a jolt that made his teeth clatter, and his hat flew free from his head. He didn’t care.

“Gav,” he said, speaking into the comms again, “can you tell me anything about where you are? What’s around you right now?”

“Well, I was by the outer door,” Gavin started, “but dynamite’s pressure sensitive. I think the cases…I think I messed up the cases….”

Too rattled to focus, Gavin started listing all the things that could have gone wrong. Jeremy could hear sirens approaching. Even as wondered what the hell Michael was doing, he felt the ground shake, followed by the sound of the inner door bending in on itself. He skidded around the corner, seeing what was left of the north wall. The dynamite had missed the structurally weaker north door, instead making a much smaller hole in the foundation. Gavin couldn’t be far. Or, he could’ve been blown hundreds of feet by the force of the explosion. Jeremy opened his mouth to call for him, not over his microphone but over the smoldering rubble, when a cop walked into view.

Her back was turned, the only reason Jeremy wasn’t dead, because her 9mm was drawn and the LSPD no longer tried to take them into custody. But she was turning, not enough time to draw the knife hidden at his belt, too close to take a shot, to far to hit her with the butt of his rifle-

TAT! TAT!

She dropped, two shots to the chest, the gun still clutched in Gavin’s hand.

“Gav!”

He was standing if barely. As Jeremy rushed to him, he wobbled, and Jeremy grabbed him to keep him on his feet.

There was so much blood.

Head wounds bleed. Circulation to the head is the most important function of the cardiovascular system, so even minor cuts to the cranium bleed profusely. What Gavin had wasn’t minor.

“Lil’ J? What are you doing here?” Gavin clutched at the shredded remains of his ear, his head a sticky mess of red and hair. “Shouldn’t you be looking out somewhere?”

Looking at the state of him, it was no wonder he hadn’t heard any of Geoff’s orders. Jeremy dropped his rifle so he could pop the button on his jacket.

“I came here to get you,” he said, wrapping his jacket around Gavin’s head.

Gavin touched the makeshift bandage lightly. “You’re to good to me J.”

When Jack pulled up minutes later, Jeremy wasted no time in dropping him onto the backseat. He jammed his rifle on the floor, along with Gavin’s duffle bag and any evidence they couldn’t afford to leave behind. As tire screeched and the they plowed toward their nearest safe house, blood seeped through the jacket, turning it an even darker purple.

“Am I going to need stitches?” Gavin asked faintly as they speed through a light.

“I don’t know,” Jeremy told him.

Gavin wriggled, despite Jeremy’s attempts to hold him still.

“I don’t like stitches. I had stitches when I was a kid and they hurt like a womble.”

“Like a womble?” Jeremy asked calmly.

“Yeah, like a womble. You know Jeremy, a _womble_.” If those words had come out of anyone else’s mouth, Jeremy would be worried about severe head trauma. But this was Gavin; it was certainly not the strangest thing he’d said today. Jack checked on them through the review mirror, and Jeremy nodded his head assuredly.

Gavin jerked with a start. “My phone! I forgot my phone!” Of all the things to be concerned about…

“It’s okay Gavin,” Jeremy soothed. “I grabbed your phone.”

“Oh,” Gavin said, settling back into the seat. “Thanks.” He looked up at the ceiling of the car, his vision obscured by the sleeve of the jacket. “You’re too good to me.”

The car was briefly filled with a crisp buzzing before Jack picked up her phone. A few curt words and she stuffed it back in her pocket. “Caleb’s there already. Geoff, Michael, and Ryan made it out. We’ll be there in six minutes.”

Gavin writhed on his back, the prospect of stitches still on his mind. Jeremy ran a hand through is non-blood-soaked hair, mutter that it would all be alright. In the last few minutes before they arrived, he looked at Jeremy absently.

“Jeremy?” He asked softly. “Am I still going to be handsome after this?”

Jeremy smiled and kissed on the forehead. “Yes, you’re still going to be very handsome.”

And he was. Eyes closed, pretending to be asleep, he couldn’t be more wonderful. Okay, maybe Jeremy was feeling a bit sentimental after their near-death adventure that morning, but Gavin pulled off having half a face very well. He had been crouching behind a roadblock when the dynamite went off, so only his head was exposed. When he came to after the anesthesia, he told them how grateful he was he hadn’t lost a hand or an arm. _Even one finger would bring my efficiency down like, ten percent_. Jack tried to tell him that loosing a head was probably worse than loosing a hand, but Gavin just asked if they had any crab salad. His last comforting words to Geoff for the night were _don’t worry Geoff. That was my least favorite ear._

Gavin scooted closer to Jeremy, his warmth a little much even without the covers. Jeremy wondered if he was finally out when Gavin gave a soft sigh.

“Jeremy?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks for coming for me.”

Jeremy’s first instinct was to say that he would do it for any of the crew, that it was his job. But Gavin didn’t mean it like that, and Jeremy knew it.

“Welcome, Gav.”

The corner’s of Gavin’s mouth turned, his nose buried in the pillow.

“Goodnight Mr. Goodness.”

“Goodnight Mr. Free.”


End file.
